


Carbon Copy

by EmperorSnarkon (launchmeintospace)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, Asian Keith, Clones, Confused Everyone, Confused Lance, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Latino Lance (Voltron), M/M, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), UA, Universe Alteration, but i cant write that either, but not alot tho bc im bad at indepth writing, dont know any asian languages so yall outta luck, except he only has eyes for keith, i hate angst but i made them suffer, im a noob at the lowest level, impulsive keith, kind of... youll see if i ever update lol, klance, once biannually, pls dont read, rare actually, slow updated, space setting, thats literally it yall know the entire plot now, this was supposed to be mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/launchmeintospace/pseuds/EmperorSnarkon
Summary: The Blue Paladin's memory was riddled with holes, static where memories were supposed to go. After months under Galra captivity, however, Lance wasn't so sure that they were events he wanted to remember. He knew that there were important people he desperately needed to go back to and the memories of his family, both in space and back on Earth, were the air in his lungs keeping his ribcage from collapsing.But Lance was starting to doubt more than just his swiss cheese memory; he's starting to doubt himself. There are the obvious doubts; was he strong enough to survive his-theirfight against the Galra Empire? Would he be able to keep resist breaking down under the constant strife he faced as a prisoner to the empire? Would he still be able to function as a paladin if-whenhe was reunited with the rest of Voltron?The doubt that haunted him the most was none of those. The snapshots of fractured memories from times spent in odd cryopods and strapped to tables, flashes of a reflection familiar enough for him to recognize it was supposed to be his own but just off enough... Enough for Lance to doubt that he was, well, Lance.





	1. With Fear In My Hand And A Chill In My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only gonna update like twice a year man

There was something wrong with Lance's body. It hadn't been obvious at first; his skin was the same dark brown, his eyes the same dark blue, his long fingers still knobby. His mouth could still curl up into the same cocky smirk he was known among his teammates for. But his skin felt unfamiliar under his fingers, not as soft as he expected, and his hair was darker than he thought he should be.

Lance frowned into the distorted reflection of his own confusion, trying to figure out just quite what had the Galra fucked up in him. There were large gaps in his memory. He could remember picking a fight with a nameless, faceless boy wearing a suit of armor similar to his (in the memory); he could remember hugging his mom the day he left for some kind of school but not what the school was or what his home looked like; his memory of being grabbed by the neck and slam-dunked into water by a large purple hand was crystal clear, but not who the attacker was, what happened after. Lance remembered a lot of things, but there was a lot of what he suspected were valuable recollections completely absent from his mind.

Sometimes, he would get a phantom itch in his mind, the slightest impression of a visual memory his brain was trying to drag up triggered by... _something_ , but nothing materialized and Lance had no idea how to know for sure that something about him was off since he might have been lacking the memory needed to be certain. But sometimes, like now, he would see his reflection, his eyebrows relaxed over his sad eyes, the corners of his lips turned down, and he would just get a gut feeling, a doubt that what he was looking at was indeed _him_ , about that being _his_ face. But that didn't make sense, so Lance would dismiss the notion and reason that maybe he looked weird to himself because he was looking at the moving surface of water instead of a smooth mirror. Plus, any length of time with the Galra was bound to fuck anyone up.

So Lance sat, a cup of water in his trembling hands, blue eyes shifting to glance around the room and wondering if it would be one of the days the Galra dragged him out, knocked him out, and did their weird Galra shit that left pain in the insides of his elbows and his head.

That was another thing: pain. Lance reacted like a baby to it, ready to cry when clawed fingers broke the skin of his arms or when his knees hit the ground too hard. If he didn't know any better, Lance would think his body had never felt pain before. But he knew he had. He remembered breaking his leg once as a kid, some kind of faulty kick during soccer practice in middle school. It sucked that Lance was now a sensitive baby, unable to ignore the little aches in his body. Maybe the Galra had done that too; they must have made him more susceptible to pain so they could get a bigger kick out of torturing him.

The cup was raised to his mouth when the cell door slid open, revealing a Galra taller than him in their probably very inconvenient helmets (how could they see through the tiny purple visor?) and a pair of those handcuffs Lance loathed. Lance's bottom lip quivered and he focused on the very slight brush of his dry mouth against the coolness of the cup instead of the pressure behind his eyes.

"Prisoner XY9-4," They began in a monotone voice. "Come hither."

"I love it when you talk bossy-prisoner-guard to me." Lance tried to joke quietly, hating how his voice cracked on 'me.' Shakily, he rose from the smooth metal floor of his cell, leaving the cup without having taken a single sip.

The cuffs were linked around his thin wrists and to each other. A hand pushed against his spine right between his shoulder blades, forcing him to take unsteady steps down the purple-lit hallway that was all Lance could remember in glaring detail. He saw it nearly every day - or rather in the routine that constituted something like a day to him- so how could he not?

As usual, only the prison guard's steady breathing let Lance know he wasn't being escorted by a sentry. As usual, a sense of deja vu almost made Lance dizzy. As usual, his heart was trying to crawl out of his throat. As usual, Lance wished his team could burst through the walls and help him out. As usual, Lance suppressed panic at not being able to recall their faces.

Had Lance been separated from them for that long? Had the shit the Druids done to him scrambled his brain with irrevisable damage?

Another wave of deja vu swept through him. The whisper of a whisper of a memory brushed his subconscious.

Claws dug into his shoulder, making Lance come to a stop. Surprised, Lance flickered his eyes up to the stoic guard quickly then to a wide set of double doors with the creepy Galra insignia stretching over their width. Dread shrunk his lungs. This was not a nondescript cell door, nor the ominous one Haggar hid her sick testing behind, but rather a massive entrance of unnerving Galra grandeur with the intent of intimidation. Admittedly, Lance was intimidated. Obviously, he didn't want to be and much less show it, but who was he going to hold up fake bravado for? It was just him, his best friend the prison guard, and the mean alien emperor probably waiting behind the door. And maybe even that witch, Haggar.

Said guard laid his open palm on a patch of gray wall by the doors and it immediately lit up in various shades of purple as it identified his handprint. The doors opened to reveal the control room of control rooms, still in that godawful purple. An intimidating and much too stiff to be comfortable throne sat on one side of the room, elevated by a few steps more than the rest of the room where the control panels lined up.

Zarkon sat on that throne like... well, like he owned the place, which he did. The cruel line of his mouth shifted a microscopic amount to smirk, but, otherwise, he did not react to Lance's entrance. His creepy little galra eyes were turned to the main screen of his control panels and he motioned with his claws for them to move forward to him.

"No," Lance breathed out, trembling like a chihuahua and refusing to move his feet. He felt like a chihuahua too: small and significantly weaker than his enemies.

The guard grabbed the back of his neck, breaking skin with their nails so that thin lines of blood trickled down Lance's skin, and pushed him down. Gasping, his knees hit the floor, followed by his face. Shamefully, Lance whimpered. He allowed himself to turn to his side, trying to curl into a small ball with half his face pressed into the floor. The floor - metal - fogged when Lance exhaled, trying to stop following whimpers and pained hisses.

Zarkon spoke as the guard grabbed the human's upper arm, dragging him like he was garbage to where the Emperor of The Known Universe sat, "You will do as I say, _Blue Paladin of Voltron_ //."

The way he addressed Lance was full of some kind of backward mirth; it was rude and quite frankly disrespectful. Also creepy as fuck. Not to mention it make uneasiness join the dread around his airways. Doubt, however farfetched, itched at the back of his mind again.

Lance was indeed the Blue Paladin of Voltron... right?

"Kneel, Paladin of Voltron."

Lance knelt.

He bowed his head too, just so he could cry without Zarkon seeing the tears full on. Humiliation and Lance lived hand-in-hand it seemed.

"Contact Princess Allura." Zarkon commanded, shifting in his seat to look even more uncomfortable than before. Straighter back, extra-squared shoulders, higher tipped chin. Wicked claws rested as a passive threat on his armrests.

The name was familiar. Lance had heard it a lot in association with the names 'Keith', 'Prisoner XY9-2', and 'Coran', as well as 'Yellow Paladin of Voltron' or 'Green Gremlin of Voltron' among other titles. All of them relating to Voltron and to Lance in some way. The most obvious connection was that they were his teammates, and something about that hypothesis sat right with Lance, so he felt a kinship and protectiveness over them that was kind of ridiculous when he took a step back and realized he would die for people he couldn't remember.

Lance allowed his eyes to slide closed, pushing out another round of tears. Absently, he acknowledged that he should have chugged that damn water.

While Lance was trembling on his knees, dripping precious water on to Zarkon's pristine metal floor, most of Voltron answered the transmission. After a pause that Lance didn't notice, there was noise; his team started yelling. They shouted his name, Zarkon's name, curses, 'quiznak.' Lance trembled harder and his body found water from who-knows-where to produce even bigger, more frequent tears.

Zarkon's minion galra grabbed a handful of Lance's mousy brown hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to face the video feed. Surprisingly, Lance didn't flinch. His tear-ladened eyelashes fluttered as he blinked his eyes open.

They fell quiet, only breathing harshly as they waited for someone to speak. Several sets of wide eyes examined Lance, taking in the tear tracks, the chapped mouth, the skinnier body, the unsuppressible shaking, the paleness under the brown of his skin. Exhaustion of all kinds was written into the slump of his shoulders and pressed into the skin under his eyes - glossy blue eyes that hungrily took in the faces of the team that he had been ripped away from, that had been washed into faintness in his mind.

The other members of Voltron, his team, consisted of six people, not all human. They pressed in close to each other, all trying to squeeze into the video feed as close to the camera thing as they could. The most prominent was an alien woman with striking white hair and rich brown skin. Her eyes -impossibly bright blue with a pink pupil lined in black- held Lance's gaze with worry, sadness, and guilt. A few tears slid over pink markings under her eyes and down her cheeks. The one that caught his attention next was the other alien because of his bright orange hair and matching mustache. The distraught expression on his faintly lined face was like a punch to the solar plexus.

Following him was a human with a shock of white hair that fell over his forehead, stark against the rest of his black hair. A raised pink scar ran over the bridge of his nose, sloping to run a bit beneath his eyes. His mouth was curled down in a frown. A younger human with dark skin and even darker hair that framed solemn eyes came after him. Bile rose in the back of Lance's throat as he caught sight of the river of tears streaking down the human's round cheeks; Lance knew that he absolutely hated seeing him so grief-stricken, knew that that boy deserved all the happiness the universe could muster and more. A head of dull ginger-brown hair was pressed next to the young human, which turned out to be an even younger, smaller human. Unreasonably big glasses in golden frames curved around glossed hazel eyes while their - Lance couldn't tell if they were female or male, boy or girl, and quickly decided that it didn't matter at all - small chin wobbled.

The last person Lance noticed was a person with fluffy black hair cut in choppy layers, uneven bangs that _worked_ falling over dark eyes. Thick eyebrows were furrowed expressively over those eyes. Lance decided immediately and permanently that their eyes were his favorite eyes. He couldn't decipher the color with all this distance between them, but he loved their intensity, the thick eyelashes, and the elegant upward curve they followed along their cheekbones.

"Lance...?" They spoke, their voice masculine yet somewhat high, cracking at the first vowel of Lance's name. There was a certain breathiness to it that Lance couldn't tell if it was caused by circumstance or was part of his usual speech.

Hearing his name helped him ground his mind back to the situation at hand. The other paladins of Voltron kept their searching gazes on him, tense, worried, and waiting.They were expecting something from him. He could tell by their anxious and hopeful eyes. Lance did his best to smile for them.

"This..." Lance started, voice scratchy and nowhere near loud enough to be considered something other than a whisper. "This is like Skype for space, isn't it?"

With that statement, the smallest human finally started crying. They were trying not to, as the arm that came up to cover their face attested, but half-sobs and awkward hiccups got around their white and green armor and tears shined over the lower halves of their cheeks. The oldest human placed his arm over their shoulders, drawing them into his side. The human paladin that was already crying moved to find the same comfort. In response, more tears sprung up in Lance's eyes but he did his best to will them away and instead tried to shoot a comically alarmed expression to the boy with the messy bangs. To his horror, a thin trail of tears had also manifested on his face in the brief moment Lance had glanced away.

"Blue Paladin," A voice like gravel barked. "You were not given permission to speak."

Lance clamped his mouth shut. A tremor like a category 5 earthquake shook him down to his knees and would have probably made his lose his balance had he already not been on the floor, supported by a Galra minion.

Since he had already been staring straight at him, Lance did not miss the wave of rage that washed over his favorite eyes. Teeth flashed from between a snarling mouth and the boy jumped closer to the screen, taking over most of it. The angle would have been funny if his expression wasn't full of such murderous anger. His snarl shifted as he opened his mouth, ready to deliver 2017's biggest, baddest burn to the Emperor of All The Known Universe, but, at the last second, he was pulled back by the alien woman.

"Keith!" She shouted in warning, even though she looked ready to kill Zarkon herself. Her hand remained clamped on the back of his armor's high neck until he reluctantly dropped his offensive stance and downgraded to glaring at Zarkon with enough animosity to set him aflame.

Lance tilted his head, pulling against the grip in his hair the slightest bit, wishing he could breathe out one of the only two names he knew but was far too afraid to even relax his pressed lips. The Galra soldier behind him could easily snap Lance's neck at any moment and Keith looked ready to implode at the slightest action.

"Zarkon," She addressed him practically through clenched teeth. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Princess Allura," Zarkon began in his gravely, smug voice. "I would like to offer you a proposal."

The blood in his veins froze, and sludge trudged through arteries. Nervous blue eyes locked on to Princess Allura's, who was staring at Zarkon with an expression of fear and disgust with some hopelessness thrown in. She looked as if she was drowning and couldn't find her way up to the surface. "A... proposal?"  
  
Bad idea. Every cell in Lance's body screamed that accepting would be a very bad idea.

"We are not handing over Voltron." Keith snapped behind her. More hands restrained his arms. He was leaning forward so much that Lance had little doubt the others were the ones mostly holding him up.

"Keith." This time, the human with the white bangs and scarred nose uttered his name in warning, reprimanding but still soft.

"Let me speak." They did. "My offer is the Blue Paladin," The Galra emperor swept his claws toward Lance. "For the galaxy system X-T-63."

The crew blanched and Lance choked. He had no idea what the galaxy system X-T-63 was like, who was there, and how much Voltron was involved within it, but he understood galaxies held millions of stars, millions of planets, could hold millions of _people_. His throat struggled to produce a sound and his mouth parted with a slight gasp. His body was fighting to do what he wanted and fighting to do what he had been told. "Don't," he choked, hunching forward as far as he could. "Don't think about- something's wrong-"

"SILENCE!" Zarkon roared, leaning forward in his metal seat and gesturing to the prison guard.

Hard nails dug into his skin and a hand yanked his head back as another clamped over his throat. Lance forced out his warning from between clenched teeth, shutting his eyes against the pain in his jaw and his scalp. "It's not worth- I- something is- wrong- _wrong with me_."


	2. Introduced Species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dramatic "reintroduction" befitting of the Blue Paladin.

Waking up with no air in your lungs was really fucking terrifying, especially in the pitch-black, water treading through your fingers and forcing itself up your nose, its depth seemingly endless in all directions.

Lance McClain could definitively attest to that.

There was no up and no down and all movement somehow made the water heavier, pressing into his chest as if slowly trying to force his ribs to cave in. Lungs wet and full of water burned with the need to breathe, but all his attempts only sucked in the cold liquid around him, making everything worse.

Lance had never been truly afraid of the water before, had never understood how some people could look at a pool and fear for their lives or never dare to set foot in the ocean. Obviously, he understood how powerful water was, all the destructive power it could wield. He had seen the destruction it caused first hand in his native country, how it had ripped families and homes apart then sunk into every crevice it could to rot what it was not able to sweep away. Storms and hurricanes had filled him with more awe despite all of that; he had never been truly hurt by water. Never had a family member of his been lost to its floods or a bone broken by the debris carried by the current. Water had never hurt Lance and thus he hadn't been able to fear it the way others did. Realistically he was aware that he was not exempt from the possibility that water could hurt him, but in some naive nook in his mind, he seemed to think that since water had never hurt him, it never would.

Lance had been so, so wrong. And he was so scared, so oxygen deprived, that he wasn't able to think at all, not even to halt the thrashing of his bound limbs. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or shut, if the rushing sound in his ears was blood or water. Pretty soon, if the fatigue in his bones was any indication, it wouldn't matter.

Maybe an eternity passed, or maybe only a few minutes, but the next time Lance opened his eyes, color assaulted his sensitive vision like never before, but he didn't even have time to enjoy it before he was screwing his eyes shut as he retched and coughed water all over himself. Hands pressed on to his back, helping him roll to his side. Air -sweet, sweet air- filled his aching lungs. Dirt, gritty and impersonally cool, pressed reassuringly against his cheek when he collapsed on his stomach. At that moment, he could spend the next few decades away from water and not mind in the slightest. He could spend that time sleeping away the exhaustion that came with near-death experiences.

"Lance?"

A hand, gloved but definitively warmer than a Galra sentry, touched his cheek tentatively. Sopping wet hair was brushed behind his ears.

"Is he... alive?"

"No, his chest is not moving on its own, totally not breathing or anything."

Opening one eye was emotionally and physically taxing yet Lance managed it. After the all-encompassing darkness of a few moments ago, it was too bright and too colorful. His vision blurred and crossed nauseatingly, but after some blinking and deep breaths, he was able to focus on the concerned faces of his team. More accurately, Keith.

And holy hot damn was Keith more beautiful up close, with all his ridiculously thick eyelashes and cute mouth and sopping wet hair. His eyes, Lance was finally able to identify, were a deep indigo.

A small smile, all he could manage, flitted across his lips. Voice nearly unrecognizable with its softness, Lance murmured, "Keith..."

"Of course." Someone else muttered behind the Red Paladin. "Of course he only sees Keith."

Someone else responded, "Well, Keith is kinda in his face..."

Both Keith and Lance ignored them, although red-faced Keith moved to help Lance sit up, allowing him to see the rest of team Voltron and for them to see him. His soaked arm was placed over armored shoulders, supporting his ragdoll body. Water slid down his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"We should head back to the castle," a comforting voice said, drawing Lance's attention to the human with a scarred nose, white bangs, and broad shoulders. "I'm sure Coran and Allura want to welcome Lance back."

"Ah..." The boy in the Galra's unfashionable prisoner skinsuit and crop top started in a voice slurred by exhaustion. "Allura..."

Keith's arm around his thin waist tensed.

There was a moment in which his brain's gears churned sluggishly and no one moved, simply waited for Lance's next words, watched for his next action. They certainly were not expecting him to tense up, eyes suddenly alert and alarmed, expression afraid. He jerked away from Keith's side, nearly losing his balance yet stumbling back when he reached to steady him. The contrast between fatigued-blue-paladin to ready-to-bolt-blue-paladin was jarring. Even more so was the pure, unadulterated _fear_ in his almond-shaped eyes. They stood in front of him in a loose semi-circle, unsure of what to do.

"Lance?" The Yellow Paladin questioned with concern. He had known Lance the longest out of all the others in Voltron and this version of him was as unfamiliar as a nameless face in an alien crowd.

" _O Dios_ \- oh god- what have you done..." Lance gasped, his words shaky and weak. "Did... you gave Zarkon... the- shit, what was the- the system's name...? You _gave_ Zarkon the galaxy system?!"

Keith, as tactful as ever, nearly shouted, "Yes! But we evacuated everyone... who wanted to leave." He had his hands out and gloved palms displayed as if he were approaching a wild animal. He was nearly shitting himself in his attempt to express how completely earnest his statement was.

The smallest paladin piped up with, "We worked non-stop for three days."

Any reassurance Keith might have given Lance - which was next to nothing if we were being honest - was completely eradicated by the comment from the Green Paladin. His stomach, which had begun to settle after nearly turning itself inside out, felt queasy once more. He felt as if his gravity center had moved straight out of his body, leaving him unsteady and swaying. The ground, he was surprised to find, was still beneath his feet, making the sensation of freefalling even more abstract and sickening. All because...

"Three days...?" He whispered softly.

... it hadn't been three days to him.

"Guys, give Lance some space," The Black Paladin commanded gently, noting the confusion and disbelief in the other's blue eyes. Giving the Blue Paladin a reassuring smile, he added, "I know this is a lot to process."

" _Tres dias? Tres... dias_..." Lance didn't see the smile. He was kind of busy staring up at the dark blue sky with watery eyes, a hand rubbing his sore throat, trying to remember anything at all from the alleged three days that had passed after the space skype call. It remained a big fat blank. A rough imitation of a laugh bubbled out, making the other paladins exchange concerned glances. " _No puede ser._ It can't be... I- I was only unconscious for... for..." He realized that he didn't really know. That there was no way for him to know since it wasn't like Haggar went around telling him how long he was strapped to a surgical table or how long he was forced into a cryopod.

Whimpering, he clung to himself, feeling as cold behind his ribs as he did on his skin. The feeling of vulnerability that invaded every fiber of his being was uncomfortable and unwelcome. It forced his shoulders to hunch, making him small and weak. Small and weak, he realized, were probably the only things he would ever be.

Tears once again stuck to his eyelashes and he hoped the water still clinging to his skin could hide them if they decided to obey gravity. Avoiding the gazes of the Paladins, Lance glanced anywhere except their faces. He was finally able to notice the remains of Galra sentries littered about, some of them still sparking and even a few accompanied with fire from where patches of grey-yellow alien grass nearby had gotten sparked on. A crushed purple ship lay close by, next to the large body of water Lance had regained consciousness in.

"I don't even remember how I got here." He admitted, staring at the ship.

No one said anything more. Keith's hands formed fists, loosened, then repeated. The Green Paladin was stood into silence, eyes wide behind the frames of their glasses but face otherwise blank. The Black Paladin stared at what he could of Lance's face with a mix of sympathy, worry, and grief. The Yellow Paladin was feeling too much; he felt as if his chest was going to burst with the need to hug his best friend, to tell him it was going to be okay because he was back with his space family.

"Lance," The other leg of Voltron tried, his voice thick with incoming sobs. "I don't know what the Galra- what they did to you, and I don't wanna pretend that I understand how you feel or anything... b-but we are your friends- no. No. We are your _family_ and we love you. Regardless of what you think the Galra... messed up in... you."

Halfway through his emotional monologue, Lance had shifted to face the other boy better. Tears and water glittered on his ashen skin. His bottom lip was pushed up in a genuine pout, twitching as he struggled not to sob. "The thing is... Yellow Paladin... the thing is that I don't _know_ what they messed up in me. I don't know, but it's not good, so I'm still pretty- pretty bummed you guys didn't listen to me. 'Don't accept the proposition' I said. 'It's a really bad idea' I said. _Que_ _hicieron? Aceptaron la proposicion. Como unos malditos idiotas._ "

Clearly angry, Keith stepped up next to Lance's best friend. His hands settled into fists, which shook at his side. "What did you expect us to do? Just- just leave you? After we finally knew for sure that you were alive? You wanted us to leave you, our Blue Paladin, our friend, a much-needed part of Voltron, at the merciless hands of Zarkon?"

A spark of the old Lance showed up in the way he threw his arms out, unfurling most of the way from his hunch. "YES. That is exactly what you should have done."

"What the f-"

The Yellow Paladin placed his hand on Keith's shoulder just as Shiro said his name reprimanding.

"That," The Black Paladin stated while gazing at the Blue Paladin seriously, "was out of the question."

Sighing harshly, Lance rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Abruptly, he dropped his arms. "Somethin' about this doesn't sit right with me. There's no good reason Zarkon would trade me to you for a _galaxy system_. He could just- just take it. Why would he willingly hand you the person you needed to form Voltron? Doesn't make sense. Something's fishy."

"Maybe," the Green Gremlin of Voltron supplied, "he just did it for a crap-ton of easy quintessence. It has gotten harder for him to take quintessence now that team Voltron is around and that there is a resistance helping us and others fight back."

Blue eyes shifted to them, blinking slowly. He stared and stared, face tired but otherwise deadpan. " _Me estan decepcionando_. You are disappointing me." Lance sighed wearily, rubbing his arm. "There is no good reason the Galra needed that galaxy system, no good reason for my return-" He silenced the protests of the other paladins. "Hear me out. You," Lance pointed a shaking finger at the shorter person. "God, the Galra hate you. You're supposed to be, like, freakishly smart right? So why do you refuse to realize there is _no good reason for the Galra to give me back_? If you need me to form Voltron, which -correct me if I'm wrong- is supposed to be the only weapon capable of defeating Zarkon, why would he just... hand me over?... Unless... you have... replaced me...?"

"Of course not!" Keith nearly shouted while the other gave calmer but similar sentiments. "Lance, don't be stupid."

"Keith..." Lance glared at him weakly but it soon gave away to another expression, a softer one. Still annoyed, but not like punching the Red Paladin was on his mind.

"What are you trying to say, Lance?" The Green Paladin drew his attention back to his argument, a frown on their lips.

Crossing his arms defensively over his stomach, Lance made sure to make eye contact with every single paladin. "Emperor Zarkon would only return the paladin you need to form Voltron if he was sure they would sabotage the team from the inside. I-" His voice cracked. "I don't wanna do that."

They took a moment to process. Mouths opened and closed uselessly but there was no sound argument against Lance's theory.

Almost casually, The Black Paladin said, "The Galra took my arm." He held his Galra tech arm out, palm up. "They did their best to break me. They forced me to fight, experimented on me... Lance, I know what capture by the Galra can be like, and even if you know something in you was forced to change to fit their twisted plans, I'm here to remind you that it doesn't make you their pawn. You are still you and in control of your own decisions."

Call Lance a sap, but in that moment, looking at the obviously mechanical limb that was the leader's arm, he believed the Black Paladin's words. He too had been captured by the purple-cat-thing aliens and had a permanent reminder of it. Yet there he stood, smiling, clad in the armor of Voltron's leading Paladin. And he was telling Lance, from experience, that he would be okay. How could Lance not believe him? Even if just a little bit?

"Gosh," He tried to laugh. One hand worked on drying the newest wave of tears on his cheeks while the other placed itself hesitantly in the offered hand. "I'm going to get my tear ducts removed after this."

The left arm of Voltron tried to smirk but it was flimsy and uncertain. "Your tear ducts don't produce tears, dumbass."

The Black Paladin nudged the nerd and frowned at the language used but turned back to the lanky boy with a grin. "Welcome back, Lance." He pulled the boy into a gentle hug, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted.

Lance, as a matter of fact, did not. He went from clutching himself to gripping the paladin of the Black Lion like his life depended on it. Voltron's left leg followed with a cheer. Even the awkward midget that piloted the Green Lion threw their short arms around them as best as they could to join the group hug. Keith smiled, chest warming with what could only be called happiness and relief. But, because he was twice as awkward as the Green Paladin, he only stood close by and didn't join the hug until someone -he was unsure of who- pulled him in. The Blue Paladin loved it and he loved them. For the first time in a long while, he felt some positivity join the jumbled mess that were his thoughts and emotions.

The hug disbanded with the words "We should head back to the castle now" from their leader.

"Princess," he announced into the comm device in his helmet, "we're on our way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THAT IT SUCKS. I'm not entirely pleased with how this turned out regarding narration and like everything but I can't think of how to improve it or how to rewrite the scene aaaahahhah.
> 
> Necessary translations:  
> "Que hicieron? Aceptaron la proposicion. Como unos malditos idiotas." = "What did you do? Accepted the proposition. Like a bunch of damn idiots." 
> 
> BTW I started a Tumblr tag for this fic ((::: bc like 3 ppl liked it and that makes it a sensational hit in my opinion. its "carbon copy klance" so if u wanna like roast my fic or scream with me and shit pls follow and post under it!! if it relates to the fic ofc cause yo i don't wanna know about how your pet goat ate your little sibling or something. Questions and the like are always appreciated (((((::::: If you wanna follow my tumblr sure go ahead ig but i only rlly reblog and yell about how there should be shadowhunter aus for all my ships


	3. Wondering Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can I get uhhhhhhh boneless Lance?? (No one lost any bones in this chapter.)

"The lions are up ahead, behind that Galra ship. Can you walk?" The Black Paladin said, walking backward toward said wrecked Galra ship. His prosthetic was lined in glowing purple and, despite the fact Lance knew that his leader would not harm him, it made eye contact harder. Thankfully, his eyes were warm and friendly, genuinely worried.

"Yeah," Lance nodded, waiting until the Black Paladin turned around and the others followed before he took a step. He didn't want to mention how everything ached and how he would honestly rather sleep right where he stood than move. The Blue Paladin managed a few steps before his exhaustion and fatigue managed to not only catch up to him but to forcefully tackle him. Shaky knees buckled under his own weight and would have hit the dirt had the Red Paladin not caught him with an arm around his waist. His vision blurred, and Lance, for a disoriented second, thought he was crying yet again. When his eyes refocused to see Keith's worried, wet face, he realized that was not the case. He was just really, really dizzy.

Keith adjusted his arm tight around Lance's shivering torso, holding him closer and more securely. His thick eyebrows scrunched together, a few droplets of water rolling down from the mess he called hair. "Are you okay?" His gentle tone was a clear and pleasant contrast to the hard and angry tone he had yelled with only a few minutes ago.

Half formed images of pristine white walls and a short figure in black and red knocking his forehead against Lance's while jabbing a finger in his chest, swinging a sword in the white armor Keith was wearing right now, and sitting next to him at a long dining table flashed across his mind's eye.

"Yes, I'm fine," Lance said as he attempted standing on his own and stepping away from the other's arms. If Keith noticed, he ignored it and kept his arm firmly around Lance's shivering torso. Too tired to protest, Lance moved his own arm over Keith's shoulders, grateful for the support and slight warmth even if the stiff paladin armor dug into his sore flesh.

"Clearly," Keith muttered, turning to face forward. They passed a sparking Galra sentry and he kicked it, sending metal legs further into a clump of smoldering grass.

The other paladins glanced over their shoulders at the sharp sound of struck metal and paused. The Green and Yellow Paladins raised their bayards while the Black Paladin got ready to deliver a deadly bitch-slap.

"It wasn't me, it was Keith." Lance supplied, pointing at said boy. Keith made an affronted noise.

With a short sigh, the Black Paladin shook his head. "Be careful, guys. Lance, you said you could walk? Would you like me to carry you?"

Mortified, Lance shook his head quickly only to groan as his eyes and brain spun like marbles. "I'm fine. Just dizzy." Tired. Sore. Weak. Cold.

"He can't even walk straight," Keith said even though no one fucking asked him shit.

"Shut up, Keith." Lance hissed, turning his lolling head toward him and ending up with a mouthful of stiff shoulder armor. Grimacing, he turned his face to lean his cheek against it instead of his teeth. "I feel like there is a joke to follow up that statement but..." Lance frowned. "Can't remember what."

"Let's just- Let's just hurry?" The Yellow Paladin spoke nervously, big brown eyes shifting from side to side. "We don't want to push our luck today."

"Lance needs a healing pod." The Green Gremlin pointed out, moving their tiny gremlin feet again. "And Keith needs space tea before he catches a cold and starts snotting all over the Castle."

Keith began walking again, having stopped after the other Paladin's in front had. Lance's feet, despite his best effort to keep pace, dragged against fine dirt and grass that felt summer dry and stiff. At some point, something had crawled over his toes and he desperately hoped it was nothing but a harmless space ant.

"Who's he riding with?" Keith asked just as they rounded the wrecked Galra ship and Lance glanced up.

"Oh, Christ." He croaked, feeling his body go boneless with awe.

"Sorry, Lance, but Jesus doesn't pilot a lion." The Black Paladin joked, turning to face him with another melancholy expression.

The Green Paladin faced Lance, glasses flashing and mouth turning down. "You don't remember the Lions?" They asked as they gestured with a tiny hand to the ginormous mechanical cats that waited several yards away.

Side by side, the Yellow, Green, Black, and Red Lions waited for their paladins. There were some scuffs and soot on their metal bodies from the battle that had just occurred yet they still gleamed under the warm lighting. Despite knowing they were metal and science and magic, Lance got the distinct feeling they were alive and was fully expecting them to take a breath, turn their heads, shift their eyes- ...on second thought, he noticed they did not have pupils and thus even if there was eye shifting, he wouldn't know. They were beautiful in a sharp and dangerous kind of way. Awesome in all definitions of the word.

"No, no. I do..." Lance whispered. "I do remember them. I just- forgot a lot of details." He gave a sheepish one shoulder shrug. "Especially how... _big_  they are."

"Great, Lance is riding with me. My lion is the fastest." Keith cut in as if they hadn't completely ignored his question.

"Sounds good." Someone said (Lance was unsure who) and then they were all moving toward their respective lions.

As they drew closer, the heads of the lions tilted down to give the Paladin's easy access, a movement that startled Lance into making a soft cry and pressing closer to Keith's uncomfortable side. "Relax, Red won't hurt you." The Red Lion regained stillness, leaving its jaws wide open for them to enter.

"Shut up," He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face harder into Keith. "It was just sudden. I'm not scared of- of your... _tiny_  lion. My lion could beat up your lion." His eyes flew open. "Where _is_ my lion? Is it back at the Castle?"

For a moment, Keith didn't answer. Maybe he hadn't heard him? Or maybe Lance had actually forgotten to ask the question out loud. God knew he was lightheaded enough to make such a dumb mistake. He opened his mouth to repeat it but Keith only echoed, "Red won't hurt you." Another pause. "Ah, fuck. I mean, just get in the lion."

Lance felt his eyebrows rise and scrunch. "What? What is it?" The Red Paladin pressed his lips together and refused to look at Lance. "Keith?"

The Red Lion's jaw closed after them, sealing them in an awkward silence within the Red Paladin's cockpit. Strangely enough, the cockpit was warm, not cool as he had subconsciously expected the mecha cat to be. Red light colored Keith's skin like a blush and glittered off his dark eyes. Lance would have appreciated the Red Lion's insides more thoroughly had a stone of dread not dropped into his stomach, forcing his slowing heartbeat into fearful palpitations once more. He was beginning to accept once and for all that he was just cursed, cursed with bad luck and a shitty life in which shitty things kept happening to him without even a break to breathe between them.

"Keith, what happened to my cat?"

"The others are already leaving for the Castle. Just... wait until we get there, okay?"

Without even a glance his way, Keith withdrew his arms and moved to his pilot's chair. Swaying, Lance stood for a moment and stared at the tall back of the chair; it nearly completely obscured Keith's head from Lance's questioning gaze. As the Red moved to follow the other lions, he stumbled to the nearest wall, placing his cold hands on it to steady himself. He shut his eyes and sunk down, drawing his knees up to his chest. His brain felt too jumbled for the thought fragments that raced around it. Sleep sounded good, so good, but he was too wired to pass out and, admittedly, scared to do so. With the Galra, sleep hadn't always been an activity he had done willingly.

Stupid, wasn't it? To be scared of sleep.

Lance turned his cheek against his knobby knees, opening his eyes as he faced the screens over by Keith. Red script in some alien language and accents framed the planet's peculiar sky as Keith piloted the Lion out of the atmosphere. The other Lions weren't within their sights, so Lance assumed Keith had either pulled ahead of them or the others had already arrived at the Castle of Lions. He wondered what it looked like; he remembered the overall sleek design -kinda like a bullet- and that the most prominent color was white. The Alteans had sure loved the color white. They also seemed to love lions; why else would they have designed their most powerful war machines after them?

Wait, did that mean that Altea had had lions?

He tried to distract himself by rigorously attempting to keep his thoughts on space lions but a small sound, something like a sigh but higher, came from the front of the cockpit, effectively reminding him of something he had not actually forgotten. He was sitting with Keith, in Keith's cockpit, in an awkward silence that, for simplicity's sake, he would also credit to Keith. It was stifling, surrounding Lance on all sides and pressing deep under his skin. It made his breathing seem too loud for the tiny space. And what was even better? The silence seemed to be suffocating him on all his own. Clearly, Keith didn't feel the same need to fill the space as Lance did.

Truly wonderful. Exactly what he pictured when he would fantasize about his rescue in a half-conscious state right after some alone time with Haggar, feeling sharp aches zip up and down his spine as the alien anesthesia wore off and seeing mystery bruises decorating his limbs.

A twinge ran up his spine just thinking about it, so he decided to focus on the sour taste building up at the back of his throat. It was either the flavor of repressed words (although he had no idea what they may be) or the taste of his bile inching up his esophagus. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the wall. Puking all over Red was rude and unnecessary and he would rather not.

Lance lasted a few more seconds just breathing and trying to settle his guts before breaking the silence. The words he would say were uncertain, but there were some things he realized he yet hadn't addressed. "Keith-"

"Lance-" Keith started at the same time. Startled, they both paused uncomfortably. "Uh, you go first."

"Okay, um, I-" The Blue Paladin coughed, glancing around as if he could find the words he needed lurking around the cockpit, hidden in buttons or maybe that alien type. When he spoke, it was quiet and painfully hesitant. "I wanted to thank you. For earlier. Um, I know it was you who... rescued me from drowning and took off the cuffs." He scrubbed at his eyes. "Thank you." It felt inadequate. It was all he could give.

"You don't-" Keith made a quiet yet frustrated sound. "You don't have to thank me."

Lance's left eyebrow twitched. "You don't have to get angry just 'cause I thanked you."

"I'm not angry!" Keith said angrily. He twisted to peer at Lance over the side of his piloting chair, face set with a slight hint of desperation. "I just want you to understand that, um, as your team mate and... and part of your space family, that I will obviously always help you and you don't need to thank me. It's not a burden or anything. In fact, it could be seen as completely selfish. Lance," His stare was so intense that it was a glare, minus the heat of anger. "I would jump in the water for you every single time. We all would."

They held eye contact for a beat. "You just had to say 'you're welcome', dude. It's not that deep..." _Things_  were fluttering around in Lance's guts now, and they weren't willing to get puked up. He wasn't sure if he wanted to anyway. He smiled warmly at Keith, trying to convey his gratitude without using words because he wasn't trying to get another lecture.

Keith nodded once, cheeks flushed twice as red as before. The Red Paladin turned back to face his screens and Lance's eyes slid over to them as well. The first thing he noticed was that they had left the atmosphere of the planet so the view was all inky black void freckled with deceptively tiny dots and a huge fucking alien space ship. It seems Lance had forgotten that the main "bullet" that made up the castle ship had other four, smaller bullets attached.

"Whoa." The Blue Paladin breathed out sharply, twisting to his side to stare with wondering eyes.

"Wait 'til you see the inside..." Keith muttered, mouth twisting into a rueful smile. The castle was impressive, yes, but the eternity that they had spent living in it had displaced the feeling of awe that had struck Keith in the first few weeks of their rather unwilling residence there.

It felt surreal for Lance to be so amazed by it all again, as if he were seeing everything for the first time. It made the Red Paladin realize that things were different, the people he lived with were different, and fixing what had changed them was going to be more complicated than simply getting Lance back and hunting down his lion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am.... so sorry....  
> i'm not really happy with this either but i started and restarted and combined and deleted this chapter so many times is this is the farthest i got and the most satisfying one of all my drafts. i was hopin' to have advanced the plot more at this point but... as you can see... At one point there was even one from Keith's pov and that seemed to be going well until it wasn't. //:: 
> 
> what do you guys think?? is it moving too fast.. too slow... what can i improve.. Would you be interested in having chapters in the point of view of other characters? or should i stick to lances' povs??? 
> 
> my tumblr's @emperorsnarkon yell at me for the wait over there


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